What Just Happened?
by pacattack777
Summary: Bluh I suck at summaries... Nyeh
1. Chapter 1

So, uh, yeah. I've read fan fiction on here for a little bit now and I got really bored today so I thought I'd try writing some… This is my first one and I've also never written in second person before so… I'd love any comments on this. Well, here. Hope you guys like it!

It was just another night. Nothing would have been different; well, that is if John wasn't the most adorable little fuck you had ever come to know.

You are Dave Strider, twenty years old, and madly crushing on your derp of a best friend.

But of course being the cool kid you are, you would never let your completely heterosexual friend know this is how you feel. That would be un-cool. And if the constant repeating of 'Dave, no homo' didn't make it clear enough, John had never seen anything in you that wasn't platonic. You knew that. It would be wrong to think anything but that… Right?

Even so, here you sit on your couch in the shitty apartment that is your home, waiting for your friend to come prancing up to the door and join you like any other night. You are going to laze around and probably watch a movie; maybe play some games.

You hung out quite often, but now, as you began to realize your feelings were not going to subside, things became a little more difficult to handle. John's little quirks became even more endearing than usual. It had come to the point where, in many instances, you simply wanted to hold John down and kiss the ever living shit out of his buck toothed grin.

But you refrain.

You know that would only send John into a spasm of awkward flailing limbs and flustered expressions. It would surely ruin your friendship. That being possibly the worst thing that could ever happen, makes you weary of any attempt. Thus, you hold yourself back, saying that is what's best, and settling for a punch on the arm every once and awhile and a passing smirk here and there.

Still, it always hurts to listen to him ramble on about how he can't catch a girl, or be as big a ladies' man as you are. _Ha_ Like you would rather be with some random chick from a bar than him. He has idolized you as this big guy who's too cool for anyone, and yet, you get all the chicks. It's not like you can help it though. They fawn over you. It would be shameful to just leave them hanging.

But, that's beside the point.

The real issue is how much you want to tell him; but you never will. He is your straight friend. Your adorable, it has to be illegal to be that cute, friend.

You have thought many times it would just be easier to tell him. He's your best bro. He would be okay with it. At least, that's what you tried to make yourself believe when you sit beside him saying anything and everything to hide the fact you're spazing on the inside.

You sigh and roll your head back. It hurts in more ways than one to think about these things; enough to make you want to rip your hair out. You rub a hand against your forehead when a knock at the door drags you back into reality and you pull yourself from the couch. Upon reaching the door, you barely have time to open it before the cold air from outside pours in and forces you to shiver. In the winter, you wished you were back in Texas and not Washington. Why had you let John drag you up here?

Oh, that's right, because you love him. Stupid emotions.

But, it's still always so god damn cold. Even in the summer it could never beat the southern heat you had come to both love and hate.

You quickly recover from the shock of the chilliness outside and glance down at the slightly shorter guy in front of you. All bundled up in a big coat and scarf; nose and cheeks red from the cold. You could warm him up. Pull him into and embrace and let him burry his face in your chest. Fuck, no, don't think about that.

You sigh again and give small shake to your head. Meanwhile, he's shivering and staring up at you with those big blue eyes.

"Dave!" John pipes though it's muffled by fabric. Giving a small tug to the light blue scarf around his neck, he frees his mouth and tries again; calmer this time. "Hey Dave. Can I come in?"

You step to the side and throw a dramatic arm to the side in a sign of welcome. "Sure thing bro, come on in."

He enters and looks around. He has been here before, but for some reason he always finds the need to search over every inch of the place. You just shrug it off. He has lived through visits to the smuppet infested place you used to live with Bro; and anything was better than that. Those things scared the hell out of you. Especially Cal. A shiver goes down your spine with the simple memories of that creepy ass thing, and you soon realize John is staring at you. He has shed his coat and scarf now in a simple t-shirt and jeans. Somehow, he is still attractive to you.

You stare right back, but of course, it can't be seen behind you dark shades. "What're you looking at?" Your tone is as smooth as always with an eyebrow perched above one of the lenses.

"Oh, nothing." He replies with a small laugh before turning and bouncing off to sit on the couch.

_Fuck. He's adorable._

You shake your head yet again. Just try to get through tonight. A small sigh escapes, ironically of course, as you sit casually beside him and send a glance his way. "So what are we watching tonight?" Simple enough; not even a hint of tension runs through your voice.

John smiles sheepishly and holds up an all too familiar box. Fucking Con Air. "Fuck no, Egbert. We're not watching that shit again."

He frowns and your heart drops. You don't like to see his frown with those teeth still jutting out. It's cute but you know he's not happy. He puts on a small pout and curls his knees up to his chest. "Come on Dave. You know it's the best movie ever. You're just jealous."

You let a smirk pass. "Jealous? Of what? That I can't be as shitastically stupid as that movie has managed to accomplish?"

The frown deepens and he sticks his tongue out. "No, you're jealous you can't be as cool as Nic Cage."

Another smirk, but this time it is almost a laugh. Almost. "Fine, put it in."

John immediately smiles and lets out a stream of giggles.

_Cute. How could anyone not love him?_

He slides off the couch and crawls over to the TV, pushing in the disk. As his smile settles into a deep grin, he returns to his place on the couch and snuggles down into the cushion. The movie starts and he watches the screen intently like he hasn't seen this thing a million times. You, on the other hand, preoccupy yourself with staring at him. Just a side stare though; you would never allow your wall of cool to drop so far as to flat our gawk at him. Still, he somehow catches wind of what you're doing and before you can look away he sees you.

"Dave…" His voice is quiet and absolutely laden with innocence.

You blink and search his face almost frantically just glad he can't see your eyes. "Yeah man?"

"It's dark in here." Blunt. Egbert never really knew subtlety. Just another thing you had grown to find lovable.

"You're pointing out the obvious bro." You reply. He's right though. You had turned the light off before the movie started and now the only light was that of the screen. You surprised he could actually tear himself away, but after sending a glance to the TV and realize this is a part where not much action goes down. You turn your attention back to those blue eyes, rounding, and glued to your face. You're not quite sure what he's getting at, but you don't dare look away and miss any expression playing on his face.

He scrunches up his face a bit in what you can only take as slight displeasure. "Why not take your glasses off?" Stupid question. You open your mouth to answer but he continues talking. "It flatters me that you like them so much since I gave them to you, but it's dark, and it has to be hard to see. No one else is here, so just take them off."

"No can do. A cool guy-" He cuts you off almost immediately.

"Never takes off his shades." He finishes for you and it causes your brows to rise but nothing more. "I know, I know. But seriously Dave, I've only seen you without them maybe twice. You shouldn't hide your eyes. They're not weird or anything. I think they're cool."

You sit, silent, for a moment. Here comes another one of those instances. No, who are you kidding? This entire has been one of those instances in which you want to plunge into the sloppiest make out session you could imagine.

_Quick, cover it up._

Before you can let anything else out, you give a small snort. "Of course they're cool. They're just too amazing for anyone to handle. It's like fucking buried treasure up in here." You fake a snide grin.

_Oh smooth, Strider. Real smooth._

His expression only contorts more and he inches closer. "Cut the act, Dave. I've known you for too long for you to still not trust me." With every word he comes closer and you scoot away, but you're stopped by the arm of the couch when he's leaning over you.

"Egbert- Get off me." The usual emotionless tone leaks out, but still a hand reaches up and brushes to metal rim of the lenses. You jerk your head away, but that pushes him forward and he raps his fingers around them. Pulling them off in one swift motion and tossing them the ground, only to reveal your eyes clamped shut.

_How did this happen? _

It was supposed to be a usual night; just you and your bud. You had barely even enough sense to realize the position you were in. John, the one you have been crushing on for years is practically in your lap. But still, you can't even enjoy it because he's now stripped you of the only layer that separates you from the world.

"Dave…" His voice is soft again and makes you want to turn back; but you don't.

"Look at me." He continues, still only inches from your face. You can feel his breath and it's driving you crazy. Reluctantly, but almost inadvertently, your head pulls back and your lids lift on their own account. You try desperately to shut them, but they won't close and you're stuck, staring him in the face. Once again the buck-toothed smile smears across his face and you can't look away even if you tried. "See. That's not so bad."

Once again your body acts without out your minds consent and you grab his shirt pulling him down as your lips meet. It takes him a moment, probably registering what's happening, but he pulls away none the less. Searching your now completely exposed eyes, he has a puzzled expression. "Dave, I am not-"

"A homosexual. I know. Just shut the fuck up for a moment, John." You actually grin, and it's sincere but gone before you're crashing your lips back into his. Much to your surprise, he doesn't pull away this time and actually kisses back after a slight disgruntled groan.

You are Dave Strider, twenty years old, and hopelessly in love in with your derp of a best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Yeah, so I didn't really think I'd continue this… but why not? And I realized after this first part, I like writing Dave better CX Anyway… enjoy!

* * *

><p>You are John Egbert, nineteen years old, and currently your lips are locked with those of your best friend.<p>

Hold on. How did this happen? You are most definitely _not _a homosexual. Then why are you making out with your friend, who is in fact, a guy? This is an unanswerable question.

It was a normal night, but somehow it turned into this. This is unacceptable. It's not like you didn't feel anything for Dave, but it was nothing like this. Not all this romantic bullshit. He was just friend; that's all you wanted him to be. Countless times you had told Dave that you are not in any way gay. Apparently not enough times though.

And yet you keep kissing back instead of stopping. No. Fuck no, this isn't right.

You feel his tongue rake across your teeth, and immediately, you pull away and push his chest deep into the couch. "Dave, stop." You stare him down, but he just stares right back up. It's odd seeing him without his shades, but you can't seem to focus on that right now.

"What is it?" He asks in that normal cool tone. That tone pisses you off sometimes; you never know what he's really feeling. Even his eyes weren't showing any emotion.

"I can't do this Dave." You sit back and scoot to the other end of the couch. He follows suit and sits up as well. "I don't know how many times I have to say this, but I'm not gay."

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, Egbert. You keep saying that l, but I know you kissed me back right there. You can't deny that."

"I know... I was just a little surprised." Your stomach feels almost queasy as you sit and flick your eyes across the dark room. "But I know for sure now. I am straight Dave. You've told me before that you're bi or whatever, and it doesn't bother me in the least. Just, you can't do that- You can't force me to kiss you..."

You are now Dave Strider, and hold the fucking phone. What did he just say?

Your eyes narrow as you gain a light glare. "What was that? I didn't force you to do shit John." You can tell he's uncomfortable, but there's no turning back now. "You were the one crawling up in my lap-"

"Now wait Dave." _Oh, this is going to be good._ "It's not my fault you wouldn't take your glasses off. I just thought it'd be nice if you could feel comfortable around me."

You laugh, probably too loud and too forced. Your emotions are blaring now, and you're certain everyone could be seen without your shades. "Jesus, Egbert. Seriously? You want me to feel comfortable? Well you failed miserably. The last few months have been anything but comfortable for me when I have to be around you and stifle everything I feel for you."

_Shit shit shit. Take the words back. Eat them. Make him forget you said anything._

He blinks and tilts his head a little. "What do you mean?"

"Fuck. Nothing. Just- stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop. Stop being you."

_Oh wonderful thing to say. Yes, you are Mr. Smooth Talkin' Strider tonight._

This triggers a small laugh, and even though it's adorable, you can't help but feel slight anger. "I can't really stop being who I am Dave."

"Shut up." You reply shortly and he retreats a little further into the couch cushion.

Silence. Unfortunately, he soon breaks it.

"Dave..." You sigh at his tone and slump down against the couch arm.

Still, you cock an eyebrow. He went from accusing you to his usual cautious behavior. "Yeah bro?"

"You've wanted to do that for awhile now haven't you?"

_Fuck._

He's figured it out just like that. Way to let your mouth go a let him know exactly how you feel. It seems your shades really do hold some barrier to your emotions. And now that you've been stripped of them, it seems he can read you like a book. No, he's always been able to do that. Even with the dark glass blocking your emotions, John has always been the one to know exactly how you were feeling; no matter what.

"Yeah." You mutter almost reluctantly.

His reaction is almost instantaneous. He looks like you told him the worst news in the world. The visible grimace brought a lump to your throat.

"I'm flattered, but Dave. I'm not gay, or bi, or anything other than straight. I like girls." The words stung your ears and you shift to drop your legs on the ground.

A long silence drug between you. It bit at the air, but its jaws were silent, and the tension was almost tangible.

"I think you should go John." You didn't want to say it, but you couldn't look at his face right now. There was no place other than downhill for this conversation to go.

"Dave I'm-"

"Don't. Don't fucking apologize. I know you're going to. Jesus. Just go." Your eyes shut as fists form on your knees.

"We can talk it out. Just speak to me-"

"Fuck Egbert shut up!" You never mean to shout, but the gates are cracking with every word he says. The damn would soon be broken.

"I can't leave you like this."

_Crack._

"I know you're hurt."

_Crack._

"I want to help you."

_Crack._

"I know this must be hard. It has to hurt, but I know you can get through this. I'll help you; whatever it takes. You're my best friend Dave."

_Boom._

The rock broke; water pushed past the rubble, the world was flooded.

Your cool guy facade is lost and now every emotion is flashing in your eyes. They are completely exposed, and you can't keep anything in. Your knuckles are white when you stand. Before even thinking, you whip around, and you are towering over him.

"Fuck no John. You can't do this. You can't push me away, but the second you see any hint of hurt, want to help me. You're the fucking reason I'm like this. You want to help me? You want to fix what you've caused? Well tough shit. You have royally fucked up my life for god knows how long. I can't see your face without wanting to take you in my arms and squeeze the ever living life out of you. I can't watch you laugh and smile without the urge to grab your face and kiss your fucking buck toothed grin. You make my head hurt every time I think about you." Your voice trails as he sits whimpering and crying in your couch. It was probably your tone and the height of your voice. He'd never been the one to handle shouting very well; especially from you.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He mumbles out, curling up into a sobbing ball.

"I was trying to avoid this very moment. I knew this would happen." You sigh, utterly ashamed and humiliated. "Fuck. Eg- John, stop crying."

"Da-" He starts once more.

"No." You turn around and place your head in your hand waving the other at your side. "Stop crying. Just go. I can't deal with this right now." His fingers rake your palm, and you, without delay, step forward, snatching your hand away. "John, leave."

Even with your back turned, you hear him shuffle off the couch and past you. He slips on his coat and shoes before the latch on the door clicks open. He stops, holding the door frame and looking over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Dave." He whispers, walking out, and shutting the door behind him.

All your muscles are tense; a fist flies into the wall beside you. It hurts, but it's nothing compared to your chest. Hitched breaths make you blink. You raise a hand only to feel that your face is wet. You bring your hand away and stare at it. Another drop runs down your cheek and drips to the floor.

_Tears?_

You, Dave fucking Strider, are crying? It's impossible.

Another tear falls, followed by countless others.

Okay, perhaps it is possible. You're just glad you're alone.

You don't even bother to pick your shades up and slip them back on your face. Finally, shaky legs give way, making you slump to the floor. This pathetic ball of emotion can't be you. Bro would surely make fun of you right now. You're being a pussy; and a downright feeble one at that. However, truthfully, you couldn't stop if you tried.

Breakdowns were not a cool thing to do, but occasionally, that's all you could manage.


End file.
